


How Peter Won Ellen: A Tale of Everwick

by A_Little_Boosh_Maid



Series: The World of Camden [2]
Category: Cinderella - All Media Types, The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Amputation, Arranged Marriage, Disabled Character, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Mention of Rape/Non-con, Mild Sexual Content, Prequel, Unwilling Bride, action girl, battles, female warriors, it's actually sort of a comedy, meet ugly, mild violence, not as dark as it sounds, slight mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:01:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23724244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Little_Boosh_Maid/pseuds/A_Little_Boosh_Maid
Summary: “That's the king on his throne, Peter Ironfoot. He lost his foot at the Battle of Everwick, but carried on through the pain until he had won the fight, and put more heart into his men with one foot than he did with two. After the battle, he had an iron foot made to replace the one he had lost.“When the battle was won and the enemy defeated, King Peter showed great mercy, for instead of acting the tyrant, he offered to marry Princess Ellen of Everwick, who had taken his fancy, so that the two kingdoms might be forever joined. He made Ellen's father swear him fealty, gave him many gifts of gold and silver, and vowed that from that day forth, the kingdoms of Camden and Everwick would be not only friends and allies, but also kinsfolk”.That's the official story of how Howard's parents were married. This is the true story …
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Female Character
Series: The World of Camden [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1708798
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	How Peter Won Ellen: A Tale of Everwick

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously having difficulties leaving this world, but I thought I would share with you one of my head canons about it.

The battle was going exceedingly ill, King Peter thought. Camden were on the backfoot, kept at bay by the army of Everwick, they were running out of supplies, and the weather was absolutely foul yet again. Did the sun ever shine in Everwick, Peter wondered, or was it a constant grey drizzle day after day?

Oh yes, and someone had just cut his foot off. All in all, not much of a day so far, Peter thought, rather muzzy from blood loss, although in too much pain to actually get drowsy. It was the 25th of October, in the second year of King Peter's reign; a day that would live in history, although it started so badly.

"Who cut off my foot?", Peter enquired of his general, Lord Geoffrey Hetherington.

"Ah, that young warrior right in front of you", Lord Geoffrey said, in some social embarrassment. He did not know the correct etiquette for introducing a victim to his attacker.

Peter peered over to see. "Not exactly a giant, is he?", he commented to Lord Geoffrey. "Must be at least half a head shorter than me". For King Peter was a tall man, well over six feet, and strongly built.

The young warrior removed their helmet, and shook out their long golden hair, revealing themselves to be not so much a shortish male warrior, as a female warrior rather taller than average, if anything.

"I am Princess Ellen of Everwick!", she proclaimed. "You shall not take our land, or our freedom! We shall fight until our last breath, we shall give every drop of our blood to protect our realm. Now I have taken your foot in battle, dog, turn tail and run home to Camden".

Princess Ellen's face was dirty and bloodied, but it was a fair face beneath the dirt, and her eyes glowed fiercely. They were amber eyes, like a hawk's, almost the same colour as her hair. She cleaned her sword and thrust it back in her scabbard, rejoining the battle without a backward glance. King Peter gazed after her with an expression something akin to awe.

"Who the hell was that?", said the general's second-in-command, Sir Ranulph Ponsonby, wandering over to see what all the shouting had been about.

"That, gentleman, is my future wife", said King Peter, trying to sit up, and gesturing for Geoffrey and Ranulph to help him.

"But sire, she is the enemy", protested Geoffrey, giving the king all possible assistance.

"That's why we have to win the battle now", King Peter said determinedly. "It's the only way I can ever have her hand. So call the blacksmith to sear my wound, and bring me a fresh horse so I can lead my men".

Barely twenty minutes later, King Peter, one leg now ending in a stump, but looking quite magnificent on his white stallion, rallied his troops.

"From this day to the ending of the world, but we in it shall be remembered - We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; for he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother. And gentlemen in Camden who are now in bed shall curse they were not here in Everwick, when any speaks that fought with us upon Saint Crispin of the Yetis' Day", King Peter roared.

"My brothers, there can be no surrender, there can be no retreat, there can be no failure. We shall go on to the end, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength. We shall fight them on the beaches, we shall fight them on the moors, we shall fight them in the hills and fields, we shall fight them in the streets to the utmost of our strength. Victory can be our only outcome, because victory, my brothers, is our only option. Who fights for Camden?”.

Hundreds of voices cried, “For Camden!”, and there were many thousands who shouted, “For Peter!”. But in his heart, King Peter whispered, “For Ellen”.

*****************************************

Princess Ellen sat alone in her chamber with red eyes, filled with furious disbelief that Camden had triumphed. That kingdom of milksops, led by a footless son of a dog, how had they claimed victory over Everwick, which had never before been taken? And now this insolent request, which rubbed salt into her wounds … it could not be borne.

Ellen's stepmother Orla quietly knocked on her chamber door, and entered before Ellen could either permit or deny admittance. Ellen's father had married Orla two summers ago, and she was only a few years older than Ellen.

“Ellen, I know you are upset, but may I say something to you?”, said Orla, nervously pushing her long silky black hair behind her ears.

When Theodoric of Everwick had been widowed, he had sent to Ireland for a wife, and accepted Princess Orla sight unseen, even though she had reached the great age of twenty-two without ever being betrothed. She was said to be very learned and spent all her time sewing and painting, but the king said she'd soon find she had little time for either. She had done her duty and produced a male heir for the kingdom named Roland – the half-brother who had disinherited Ellen.

Ellen didn't reply, but Orla kept her voice gentle.

“Ellen, you went to the battle and fought with all your heart, but you were defeated. What is the honourable thing for a warrior to do in this situation?”.

“I know not, my lady”, said Ellen in a muffled voice, “unless it be to take his own life for the shame of it”.

“If all warriors did so, there would not be many warriors left”, said Orla drily. “Is it not his duty to kneel before the king who defeated him, giving him honour and fealty?”.

“I suppose so”, said Ellen dolefully.

“Then would it not be honourable for you to do your duty to King Peter?”, Orla suggested. “And has he not offered Everwick very easy terms?”.

“But what he asks for, my lady!”, Ellen said pitiably. “It is so … so degrading”.

“You think it degrading to marry a king? As I married your father?”, asked Orla, one eyebrow raised.

“No, but … the way he asked! Making me part of the peace deal, so that there is no honourable way for me to refuse”, wailed Ellen. “I feel trapped”.

“Yes, he has been very clever”, said Orla with a smile. “But all that aside, would it be so dreadful to marry King Peter? He is young, and quite handsome”. Her voice betrayed no bitterness that she herself had been married off to a man much older, and with little of his good looks left.

Ellen looked as if she might be wavering, although she wrung her hands as if in despair, and pushed her wrists against her forehead.

King Theodoric shoved his way into the room, banging the heavy wooden door in the process. Apparently Ellen's private chamber was not really private, or really hers. It belonged to her father, and he could barge in whenever he liked, without asking. Orla gave a little sigh.

“Now then, Ellen. I've just about had enough of your sulks”, Theodoric said in a temper. “We've been offered a very attractive peace deal, almost completely in Everwick's favour, so you'd better prepare yourself to marry Peter, and we'll have no more of your nonsense. I thought I raised you to be a brave lass, and here you are, crying and carrying on like a baby. It's high time you were married anyway, and now you've been given the opportunity to be queen”.

“I'll run away and live as an outlaw in the woods before I marry that man!”, shouted Ellen, and in no time at all father and daughter were in the middle of a first class row.

Orla permitted herself an eye-roll, but she was genuinely annoyed. She had been gently persuading Ellen to accept Peter, and now that idiotic Theo had undone all her good work. It was too bad, it really was. At this rate, Ellen would be dragged to her wedding, kicking and screaming.

*******************************************

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Ellen”, said King Peter, bowing before her. “May I sit down here?”.

Ellen nodded, rather curtly, so Peter sat on the heavy wooden chair next to her, grateful for the furs thrown over it, and the warmth of the fire near them. It was another chilly autumn day in Everwick, and tomorrow would be Winter's Eve.

Nobody spoke, until Ellen at last asked, “Why?”. She hurled the question at Peter as if it were a weapon.

“Why do I want to marry you? Well, it's because you cut my foot off, you see”.

“That's the oddest reason for marrying someone I ever heard”, retorted Ellen.

“And when you took off your helmet to give me a piece of your mind, your eyes were so bright and your cheeks so flushed, and your hair looked so golden, like a field of ripe corn, that my heart was struck as if by a lightning bolt”, went on Peter.

Ellen tried not to flush again, and failed quite dismally.

“I thought I had delivered you a crushing blow”, she said in a low voice. “I thought you would slink away after being injured”.

“A king doesn't need a foot to rule”, said Peter cheerfully. “Only a head, to wear the crown, you see. Now, if you'd cut that off, it would've been a different story”.

“Doesn't it hurt?”, asked Ellen.

“It does, rather”, Peter admitted. “But I expect I'll get used to it, and your excellent Everwick craftsmen have made me a handy new foot out of iron, so I can walk”.

“Then I'm sorry”, said Ellen stiffly, “for I've caused you lifelong pain, and made you want to marry me”.

“It's even worse than that”, said Peter with a sly smile. “We were losing the battle, and I was close to surrendering until I saw you. You are single-handedly responsible for the defeat of Everwick, and I'm afraid you must pay the penalty”.

Ellen looked stricken, and Peter asked, “Is it such a terrible thing to have to marry me? I've been told I'm one of the more eligible kings of Europe”.

“It's just … being _forced_ into it”, said Ellen bitterly. “As if I'm a piece of livestock you saw in the market. Now I must have a halter put over my head so you can drive me home with a stick”.

“Hey, that's a tad dramatic”, said Peter in alarm. “I don't want to force you into anything. I was vain enough to think you might rather like the thought of being Queen of Camden”.

“The things they say about Camden women!”, Ellen muttered.

“And what do they say about Camden women?”, asked Peter, genuinely baffled.

“That … that they think about nothing but clothes and parties, like empty-headed little dolls”, said Ellen reluctantly. “And that a Camden wife must kneel and bow before her husband, and call him master, and be subject to him in all things”.

Peter roared with laughter, until he was actually wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “For the first part, it's not just women – people in Camden, both men and women, do seem to care a lot about dressing up and going to parties”, he admitted. “It can get a bit tiresome, but there's nothing that awful about wanting to have a good time and look nice, is there?”.

“And the other part?”, Ellen asked.

“I promise you, Camden wives are no more under their husband's thumbs than anywhere else. It's a complete fantasy”, said Peter.

Ellen didn't say anything, but sat with her head bowed, as if in thought.

“You poor girl, so you thought I came to tame you and force you to my will, grabbing you by the plaits and hurling you into the mud to bring you to heel?”, said Peter with a grin, taking the end of one blonde plait between his fingers and stroking it.

“Don't … don't touch my hair”, said Ellen, turning red, and tugging her plait back.

“Of course. It is for the lady to say when and where she is touched”, said Peter softly. “But you see, Ellen, I want a wife to sit beside me as my equal, to be a companion and helpmate in ruling the kingdom. Not a silly little doll, or a slave prostrating themselves before me”.

“And what if I didn't want to be a wife? Will you bring Everwick to its knees and oppress its people if I refuse to marry you?”, asked Ellen. She didn't accuse him, only spoke as if she was interested in his answer.

“No, the peace deal would still proceed”, said Peter. “Although naturally I would not be paying your father quite so much money. I greatly wish Camden and Everwick to be friends and allies. I just thought it would nice if we could be kinsfolk as well. And … forgive me if this sounds conceited, but I wouldn't give up all hope that you might change your mind one day. Is that wrong of me, Ellen?”.

He looked at her, his brown eyes, rather small, crinkled up, and a little half-grin on his face. Ellen suddenly realised that his grin went sideways, and that made her want to press her finger against it, and straighten it. It was a maddening smile, it mocked her, and she felt her face get hot. It was insufferable that he had put her in this position. He had placed her in a trap, and now he opened the door to let her out, all the while hoping that she would willingly walk back into it. In fact, confident that she would, because she had few other places to turn.

She made a sudden impatient movement with her hand, until she realised with embarrassment that she had flung it at Peter. He took her hand, and linked his fingers between hers. He did it easily, as if their hands belonged together.

“Look, I probably wouldn't be much of a wife”, muttered Ellen. “I'm not like my mother, who managed all the castle herself. Or like my stepmother, who does exquisite embroidery and illuminates manuscripts, and reads and reads and reads in many languages. I like the outdoors, I like to ride and hunt. I like archery, and swordsmanship - “.

“That's understood”, smiled Peter. “I love riding and hunting too. I have forests and parks just for that purpose. But you are an intelligent woman, and I think you would learn law and economics soon enough, so that we could discuss the ruling of the kingdom together. Being a queen can be dull work a lot of the time, unfortunately”.

“And I suppose my daughters would be brought up to wear lovely clothes and act perfectly all the time”, said Ellen mournfully.

“I'm afraid so”, said Peter. “Camden princesses are famous for their beauty, their elegance, their style. They get snapped up as soon as they poke their pretty noses out of the schoolroom”.

“Then I shall concentrate on my sons”, said Ellen determinedly. “I want sons who will be strong, who will be men of action, who go forth across the earth and discover new things”.

“Aren't you getting rather ahead of yourself?”, queried Peter. “You're planning our children without ever agreeing to marry me”.

“I never will”, said Ellen proudly, getting to her feet, although somehow still holding Peter's hand. “You will have to marry me without my agreement, and take me by force on our wedding night, and every day of our marriage you must try to win me anew”.

“By the gods, my lady, I begin to think you are one of those women who actually _want_ to be taken against her will!”, Peter said in shock, staring up at her. “Good luck convincing anyone that you were violated in your bridal chamber by a cripple”.

“You are quite capable of overpowering me when we are both off our feet”, said Ellen, and she dragged Peter from his chair until they were lying on the bearskin rug in front of the fire. Ellen was strong, not a dainty little thing like her stepmother; her face looked pink in the firelight, and her plaited hair strawberry blonde. Her golden eyes were fixed on Peter, her lips slightly open.

“People are going to say I have brought home a mad, wild princess from the grim north”, said Peter, gazing at Ellen hungrily.

“Will you care?”, asked Ellen.

“No. You're so beautiful, Ellen”, said Peter, his fingers twisting into her plaits and pulling them loose, almost roughly. Her hair fell around her shoulders, in stiff waves from being bound. He gently caressed her face, and kissed her forehead.

“Your smile is all crooked”, said Ellen hoarsely. “I want to push it back into place”. She ran the tip of her finger around his mouth, until he grabbed her hand, and kissed her fingers, before rolling on top of her, and pinning her arms between his powerful shoulders.

“Is this really what you want, Ellen?”, he panted. “For me to take you here, on the floor of your father's chamber, on the skin of a bear that he killed?”.

“I killed it, actually, Peter”, said Ellen.

He barely had time to register that she had used his name for the first time, before he realised she was pulling her skirt up, and opening her legs to him. He made a deep growl at the back of his throat, and then his mouth was over hers, kissing her passionately as one hand went between her thighs, pulling her skirt still higher. His lips were on her throat, her neck, almost biting at her in his savagery. The drawstrings on her dark woollen dress came loose, exposing more of her breasts.

The door of the chamber was flung open, and Orla's voice screamed, high and loud.

“Help! Help! He is dishonouring the Princess Ellen in my lord's chamber!”.

Orla's ladies-in-waiting swarmed in, like clouds of witness, squeaking in indignant horror, and going to Ellen's rescue. They helped her sit up, pulled her dress down, stroked her hair comfortingly, and looked daggers at Peter, who stood up in a daze, using the chair behind him to keep steady.

“You have to marry her now”, said Orla imperiously. “No man will take her once it becomes known she was ravished by Peter of Camden. And the wedding needs to be held very soon”.

Ellen gave a satisfied smirk as Peter looked down at her, the ghost of a smile on his lips to acknowledge how she had trapped him.

“You came not a moment too soon, my lady Orla”, Peter whispered, leaning toward his hostess. “Another minute, and I believe she would have had my virtue”.

**Author's Note:**

> Ellen as a warrior is inspired by the many medieval women who took up arms, often in support of their husband's cause, occasionally their son's. Ellen is supporting her father's cause, and rather unselfishly trying to save the kingdom for her baby half-brother, who has ensured that Ellen can never take the throne of Everwick. 
> 
> King Peter's speech to the troops is cobbled together from the speech at the Battle of Agincourt in Shakespeare's “Henry V”, and the “Fight them on the beaches” speech by Winston Churchill in World War II. 
> 
> St Crispin's Day is October 25th, the date of the Battle of Agincourt in 1415. In this world, he is Saint Crispin of the Yetis. 
> 
> Orla is an Irish name meaning “golden princess”. It was a favourite to bestow on princesses in the various royal families of Ireland. Ancient Ireland was famous for its intricate hand-embroidery and beautifully illuminated manuscripts, so I gave Orla both these skills. 
> 
> Feel free to imagine Theodoric as rather like the northern king in “The Holy Grail” who wants to marry his son Prince Herbert off to Princess Lucky. Just as loud, just as unreasonable, and with exactly the same accent. 
> 
> Winter's Eve is the 31st of October, so it's now the 30th of October, and a few days have gone past since the battle.
> 
> When Peter says Ellen's hair is like a field of ripe corn, he means a field of wheat, not one of sweetcorn or maize (that's in the Barbarian Colonies). 
> 
> Peter wonders if Ellen thought he came to dominate her by grabbing her by the plaits and hurling her into the mud. According to legend, that's exactly how William the Conqueror wooed his wife Matilda. She wasn't keen on marrying him, but after a bit of roughing up, she was positively eager. Of course, it's just a legend. William and Matilda do seem to have had a fairly equal relationship, as Peter intends to have with Ellen, and William is not known to have had any mistresses – almost eccentric for the nobility of the time.
> 
> (Another similarity between William and Matilda and Peter and Ellen is that Ellen gave birth to Howard on the front line of a battle in Everwick. Similarly, Matilda gave birth to the future Henry I in Yorkshire during the Harrying of the North). 
> 
> “Clouds of Witness” is the title of a detective novel by Dorothy L. Sayers, starring Lord Peter Wimsey, one of my first literary crushes.
> 
> The situation Ellen finds herself in wasn't uncommon in the Middle Ages. A young princess or lady sometimes had to get married off to whoever defeated her father in battle, making her part of the spoils of war (she might get married to a king, or one of the king's sons or nephews). It happened the other way around too, with young dukes and so on finding themselves in arranged marriages with princesses a lot older than themselves. For some reason, men forced into marriage is rarely covered in fiction, and when it is is, usually played for laughs.


End file.
